The Messenger
by ThePenguinofDeath
Summary: He lost almost everything that day, when Lucifer drove an angel blade into his body, but he didn't lose his life. Not quite. Four years later, Gabriel has a message to deliver - but a lot has changer both the giver and receiver in the time that had passed. Follows on (mostly) from current season nine canon.


**This could be a prequel to something else or a standalone. I haven't yet decided what to do with it, so I figured I'd ask you. What do you think? Should I leave it as it is or weave a story around it? Any feedback is welcome.**

It was a sacrifice that he had to make, but he would never forget the burning.

Gabriel flexed his mangled wings and shuddered, twinges of pain still shooting down his shoulder blades after all these years. A few scorched feathers twitched instinctually, arranging themselves in the optimum angle for takeoff. It was almost laughable how his carefully honed reflexes still prepared for him to fly. He couldn't fly, not because he was incapable but because it would shame him to do so. He would have to relearn the skill, a fledgling all over again, and he had already suffered too much embarrassment for that. No matter what had happened, he was still the archangel Gabriel. He would retain what little of his dignity remained.

In the depths of the universe that he hid in, news was hard to come by. But he knew how the apocalypse had been averted, Sam spending hundreds of hell-years being tortured before being pitifully dragged out with no soul. Stupid, brave Castiel. Of course, Castiel had not made that journey alone, but he wasn't to know that. Gabriel couldn't fly, but he used his other powers to aid the passage as much as possible. Castiel hadn't noticed Lucifer's grace attaching itself to Sam's body, but Gabriel had ensured that almost all of it was peeled away. Almost all. Sam would probably have nightmares for the rest of his life due to the tiny amount still inside him.

Now, of course, the biggest mistake had been made – the angels had fallen. But Gabriel couldn't say that he hadn't forseen it. Chaos was rampant, and all the prophecies that had once been written were coming true. An end of a different kind was near. Gabriel wondered if he really wanted to be around to see it.

But first, he had a message to deliver.

The righteous archangel Gabriel, messenger of the Lord, tucked his damaged wings into a pocket dimension and pulled a key from thin air. He carefully unlocked the nearest car, not too bothered about who owned it, and slid in with a semblance of his old elegance. It was an older car, a seventies design he thought, with comfortable leather seats and clean upholstery. The effect was somewhat ruined by the iPod dock and garish green iPod, and Gabriel wasted no time in removing those and setting some soft jazz music rolling through the car. Perhaps Gabriel came off as somewhat crude in person, but as an archangel, he had trained himself to have style.

It took a few hours to reach the bunker, during which Gabriel kept one anxious eye out for any fallen angels who might recognise or intercept him. Not that they could – he still had his full power, unlike the other angels who were fully cut off from Heaven and running on tanks that were slowly but surely emptying. Besides, he was the one remaining archangel who wasn't imprisoned or worse. Tattered wings were nothing compared to the insanity brought on by the Cage. But Gabriel liked the element of surprise, and the world didn't need to know that he was alive quite yet. It was not yet time for him to play all of his cards. If things went right, it never would be.

Things never went right. Not here. But Gabriel tried to remain eternally optimistic.

The car cruised to a stop outside the bunker, Gabriel taking note of the garage and wondering whether to drive inside. He decided against it, if only so it would be easier to make a quick getaway. The important Winchester, the one he was here for, he could count on being glad to see him. But the other was more obstinate. If he was here, he might hinder Gabriel's plans, and complications were too difficult to deal with at this point.

Slowly, Gabriel got out of the car before transporting it to a parallel dimension. It would be safer there, and while the Winchesters were stubborn and slow, they could on occasion be observant. Even the elder would wonder why a strange car was parked outside. He might even send Castiel to investigate, and hiding his grace from Castiel at this distance would be an unnecessary challenge.

Gabriel slipped into the bunker unnoticed, moving through the rooms like a shadow. He marvelled at some of the things here that the Winchesters wouldn't even have identified. Some of the treasures in this bunker were priceless to archangels, but even Castiel would be unable to recognise them. Gabriel had to stop to stroke one particular statue, recognising it as an old cursed object of Kali's. He fought the temptation to take it as a souvenir. It would be fun to use it on n enemy, but any surviving pagan would recognise it was his work. None but Gabriel-Loki would dare to use the Destroyer's magic after her death.

It was Dean who Gabriel came across first, sat at a wooden table with his head in his hands. He looked despondent, and Gabriel fought the urge to play a minor prank to cheer him up. He wasn't here for him. There was no need for Dean to know that Gabriel had been here at all.

The Winchesters had probably had a fight, for Dean to look like that. It was hardly a surprise. Sam's mind was logical, intelligent, he learnt from his mistakes – Dean found his rut and stayed there. It was why Dean hadn't made a move on Castiel despite pining after him for five years. The switch from girls to multidimensional wavelengths of celestial intent was too far out of his comfort zone for the simple Winchester. Sam was more adaptable, more changeable, and more likely to express his individuality. There were many reasons why Gabriel had a soft spot for the Moose, but those covered some of them.

Sam was laid down on his bed in his room, a book in his hands and a pinched, worried expression on his face. He always worried after a fight. Gabriel felt sad for him, remembering similar times with Michael, and Lucifer, and even Raphael. He wondered how best to approach this. Delivering messages was a complicated art, the deal with Mary had taught him that. Sam was already acquainted with Gabriel, and feelings would make this harder for both sides.

He was an archangel of the lord. He was not afraid of delivering a message to one human, no matter how it made him feel. Slowly and deliberately, Gabriel removed the illusion hiding his presence and spoke.

"Hey, Sasquatch."

Sam looked up, confused, his eyebrows furrowing. His eyes focused in on where Gabriel was stood and widened, taking in the familiar looking sight. The book dropped onto the bed before clattering to the floor, but Sam barely noticed, standing up in shock.

Gabriel just stood there, waiting, but Sam didn't approach. Instead he pinched his skin, hard, nails cutting in. Gabriel winced internally – Sam thought he wasn't real. He felt a crushing sadness over what the Winchester had endured to make him think that. Having a sliver of Lucifer's grace could have caused hallucinations in the same way as demon blood, and the boy had dealt with both. Enough was enough, so Gabriel moved forward and prised Sam's hands away.

"Sammy. It's OK. I'm real. I didn't die – well, I did and I didn't. I can explain, if you want. But I'm here on business matters so I have to give you a message first."

His voice was calm, soothing, designed to ease Sam's fears. But it only succeeded in making Sam look confused and lost.

"Where have you been for four years? Why didn't you say something? If it's really you, and you don't sound like you, you would have said you were alive. Cas would have said you were alive. Probably."

Sam sounded panicked, pained, and a million other emotions that Gabriel didn't want to think about right now. The boy had always been emotional, and Gabriel could only deal with so much.

"Times have changed, Sasquatch, and I changed with them. It's not important. What is important is what I'm about to tell you. It's an old message, a very old message, one I was given by God."

Sam frowned. He looked tired, really tired, more tired than Gabriel had ever seen him. The years had aged him, that was easy to see, and he was a very different man to the sweet Sam Gabriel had known before.

"When all the angels have been struck out of Heaven, and all the demons have ascended from Hell, you have to open the gates and let the universe find equilibrium again."

"What does that mean?" Sam knew what it meant. Gabriel knew that Sam knew what it meant. But he would explain anyway.

"It means, Sammy, that the angels would always have been expelled from Heaven, with or without Metatron's spell. The system wasn't designed to last forever. When the angels fell, they started a chain that will cause all demons to rise and walk the Earth. Michael and Lucifer will be freed, and war will rage until a winner is declared and a balance will be struck again. You could stop it, kiddo, but you shouldn't. This isn't like the apocalypse, it isn't just an end. It's an end to allow the beginning again. The turn of a wheel, a cycle nearing its end."

Sam's face had cleared, and he seemed much less lost than he had before.

"I won't let it happen. Dean won't let it happen."

"Of course Dean won't let it happen." Gabriel interrupted. "God knew that. That's why the message is for you. He knew that you would want out, that you would never be satisfied with this life. You've always sought an escape. Stanford, demon blood, possession by Lucifer, asking for a permanent death. This isn't a life that could satisfy you, and it shouldn't be. You can move on – you just need to leave the universe alone to sort out the mess hunter's have made of it."

"You want me to defy Dean? Again?"

"Yes." Gabriel might have been the Trickster god for a time, but he saw no reason to lie now. "I won't force you to. This is your choice, Sam."

"I never have a choice." Sam sounded resigned. Gabriel didn't have the heart to tell him that he was right. Sam's destiny was to defy – so in the defiance he so craved, he followed his destiny.

"There's always a choice, kiddo. Perhaps you're not the one making it, But it's there, nonetheless, and you can influence anything if you try."

Gabriel's spiel was done, and he prepared to leave. He didn't want to stay around for the almost certain destruction.

"Don't go."

Sam didn't use his psychic powers any more. He could if he wished, but he never did. Gabriel supposed he thought them tainted. However, it felt like he was reading Gabriel's mind when he told him not to leave.

"What would I do if I stayed?"

"Stay with me."

It wasn't an answer to his question. It wasn't an answer at all – it was a plea. A plea from a man who was still a lost little boy, who had just been forced to grow up to fast. A plea that Gabriel understood right to the core in ways that Sam could never know or guess.

They were both broken younger brothers, damaged by war in ways that the ordinary eye couldn't see. They were both rebels destined to be rebels, who did exactly what was expected of them by trying to defy expectations. Both were born in blood, baptised in fire and raised amongst war and death. Gabriel knew he shouldn't stay. He had a part to play to make sure that this worked, and he couldn't play that part if he was comforting the youngest Winchester.

Gabriel looked into Sam's eyes to say goodbye.

He stayed.


End file.
